Fuck You, Love Craig
by popuriFFic
Summary: Craig tries to kill the class hamster and Tweek watches. Craig then decides to aim his spitballs at someone else, instead. CREEK, ONE-SHOT


summary/notes:

Craig tries to kill the class hamster and Tweek watches. Craig then decides to aim his spit balls at someone else, instead.

Set in the earlier seasons, before Craig and Tweek are really any kind of friends.

I've always loved Craig, and his middle finger.

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**fuck you, love Craig**

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School. Seated in a hard, plastic, chair-desk-combination. Just like all the other kids in Mr. Garrison's third grade classroom. Craig was SO FUCKING BORED.

He sat with one elbow upright on his desk, leaning his face against his fist and not caring about the indents his knuckles left on his cheek.

Craig could think of nothing to do but stare blankly ahead; at the chalkboard, at the floor... at Cartman's dirty ass crack.

Ewwwwww.

The desk of Eric Cartman, resident fat-ass (and asshole) of the town, was unfortunately placed directly in front of Craig's, giving him a full-frontal view. Disgusting rolls of fat hung from the sides of his chair. His pants were a size too small and they clung to the outline of his body, desperate to encase it. The pants weren't completely successful, having slid down and leaving the crack of Cartman's ass in plain view.

Craig sighed.

Desperate to entertain himself, he resorted to tried and true methods: trying to kill the class hamster. Craig ripped a piece off of the (still completely blank) fill-in-the-blank worksheet Mr. Garrison had handed out earlier, stuffing it in his mouth. Slowly, Craig chewed, watching the helpless hamster drink from his spout. He didn't want anyone to see, of course, but the others seemed too wrapped up in the lesson, each other, or their own thoughts; no one noticed Craig. No one here really noticed anyone but themselves. The children of South Park had grown up without fear, because that's what happens when you discover early on that nothing is scarier then ending up like your parents. Things stop mattering so much.

Withdrawing a straw he kept reserved for himself in his desk, he spat the balled up piece of paper from his mouth and stuffed it up the end of the straw. He scanned the class to ensure the majority were occupied, either by the lesson or their own daydreaming. Mr. Garrison was teaching a lesson about the TV show _Friends_, explaining that one of the characters was a secretly a closeted homosexual, and was forced to keep it hidden from the rest because in the olden days of 1994, gay people were burned at the cross, accused of being witches. Mr. Garrison rambled on and some of the "smarter" kids in class took useless notes. Most of them weren't allowed to watch _Friends_ at home, as their parents blocked that channel.

Craig shot the spit ball at the hamster cage. It smacked the side and was halted by a piece of the wire. Fuck. The hamster continued to drink, oblivious.

Another piece of paper in the mouth, and no sooner Craig popped it back out in a perfectly rolled ball. That fucking hamster. He was going to get him. He shot at it again...

Damn, another spit ball stuck to the side of the cage. This one, at least, hit with more force, shaking the cage and startling the hamster. Craig heard a gasp and was triumphant, but whipped his head around, realizing it wasn't the hamster who had let the sound escape. His prey resumed his drink.

Craig looked to his side: nothing. He looked to his other side: Tweek, hand covering his mouth and left eye twitching. He had been watching Craig's conquest with curiosity.

Craig whipped around to face him so fast that Tweek must have been spooked. He glued his eyes back to the board and pretended to take notes so fast it stressed Craig out to watch. Freak. Tweek's eyelids were twitching.

Craig ignored it for now: he had a hamster to kill. He stuffed a third piece of paper in his mouth and turned back around to stare at it.

The shot landed perfectly. The hamster, who had his back to Craig while still drinking from its tube, jumped three inches in the air.

Yes! Craig hit it right in the ass!

It was then that Tweek... tweaked. A small, strangled, disgruntled cry. Craig directed his gaze to the source of the noise, looking him right in the eye. Tweek starting blushing and blinking frantically. Craig marvelled at him, squirming under his stare, yet too afraid to break eye-contact. It was... odd. Tweek was odd, Craig realized. He was just _different_. It was rather amusing.

"Hey," Craig whispered. He saw Tweek stiffen and then finally look away. Why was he so scared? The weirder he got, the more entertained Craig was.

"Hey, Tweakers!" Craig hissed. Tweek looked over this time, terrified of getting in trouble for being heard talking, which they most certainly would if Craig raised his voice in continuing to try and get Tweek's attention, which Craig most certainly was planning on doing. Tweek's eyes were glossy and red-rimmed. His pupils darted about the room wildly. Watching an invisible tennis match. Hearing voices coming from all different directions.

Craig gave him the finger.

"Ah! Fu-" Tweek flinched and immediately flew his hand to his mouth, turning back to the front. Three or four of the boys sitting in the row ahead turned around to raise an eyebrow at Tweek, but got over it fast and resumed their previous activity. It was just Tweek. Tweek always spazzed out. But Craig had never really noticed how... _interesting_ it was, before now. He longed to know what the hell was wrong with him. He always spazzed out, yes, but Craig had never been the source of his episodes before now, and it was surprisingly fun. What was going on inside the head of Tweek Tweak?

Craig kept staring at Tweek, smiling small. Tweek strained to sit forward, trying to block out the fact that Craig was staring at him as he crouched down and tried to sink into his desk. Tweek could feel Craig's eyes burning into his back as thoughts spiralled within his brain. Desperately trying to meld with the background, Tweek wished more than anything that he'd never opened his stupid mouth in the first place. Why the hell did he have to let it slip out? Why did he have to watch Craig doing his funny little spit ball tricks?. Why couldn't he mind his own da-amn business? Ah!

He continued to slouch and burrow and minimize himself as much as possible. But Craig continued to stare.

"Tweek!" he heard again. Oh, Jesus. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Tweek, look!"

Too scared to disobey any longer, Tweek turned to see Craig, sitting up straight in his desk, an actual, honest-to-goodness smile plastered on his face.

And his middle finger erect and pointed in Tweek's direction.

"Oh, jesus!" Tweek looked like he was about to cry as he convulsed with twitches. Craig started to laugh. It began as a giggle and he had to plaster a very wide smile on his face to prevent the escape of more, louder giggles from disrupting the class.

It was a fun little game they had developed. "Tweek!" Craig called to him a third time. Tweek didn't budge easily.

"Tweeeeeee-k." Craig attempted again. Tweek squeezed his eyes tight, trying to make it all go away. Craig couldn't take it. "C'mon Tweek, I promise I'm not going to give you the finger."

Tweek was obviously flustered. His cheeks were bright red, he was sweating, his hair stuck to his face, his eyes were bulging, he looked... mangy.

"Tweek, come on." From the sight of Tweek's pulsing his sore eyes shut, Craig knew he was trying to block out his voice. Slowly and skeptically, Tweek peered over his shoulder at Craig. Craig stared blankly at him for ten whole seconds, holding eye contact. Tweek gulped, fresh sweat beginning to form, once again too scared to break eye contract. Craig just stared.

Then, Craig flashed him the finger. Tweek jumped and faced the front again. Now, Craig was laughing. He couldn't stop. Luckily, they were seated in the back row of the classroom.

After calling his name again a few times, Tweek refused to turn around. He held steady this time, eyes to front, too scared to even glance at Craig through his peripheral. Through his ears pricked up every time he heard his name, Tweek resisted the urge to around, dreaming of the second he could burst through the doors and leave the classroom, and Craig, behind.

Craig knew he needed to do something else to get Tweek's attention now. And his answer, Craig realized, was staring him right in the face.

Reaching into his desk, Craig grabbed another straw. A different straw, one he kept for speciality jobs. It was a jumbo sized straw that came with the big gulp slushie at the 7-11. He grabbed the remaining half of the original piece of paper off of his desk. It all went into his mouth at once. After a few good chews, Craig reached over to Tweek, grazing his hand. The blonde jumped and looked to Craig out of instinct, cursing his reflexes, but he was relieved to find Craig wasn't giving him the finger. Instead, he was holding up a giant spit ball and purple straw.

Once he knew he had his attention, Craig loaded it in. Tweek continued to gape. Craig rose the straw to his mouth, slowly, carefully...

He aimed; he fired. He shot the spit ball right into Eric Cartman's gaping ass crack.

Cartman squealed and then roared, whipping around in his chair. The class broke into laugher. Even Tweek was laughing, despite himself, trying to muffle a smile with his hand.

Craig smiled. Mission accomplished. Their eyes met and Tweek blushed. Craig melted a little in his chair.

Then he gave Tweek the finger.

"J-Jesus!" Tweek said, a little too loudly. Cartman, who had turned around to find the spit baller, assumed Tweek to be the assailant from his outburst.

"Tweek, you weird little shit. I'm going to kill you," Cartman seethed. He had been waiting for the culprit to show himself. "I'm going to come to your house tonight and kill you. I'm going to kill your parents first and then your dog and then give you a prefrontal lobotomy with an ice pick. Do you hear, me you little freak?"

"Ah! E-Eric, I don't have a dog, dude," Tweek shrieked. His eye muscles rapidly contracted and relaxed, continually winking his right eyelid.

Cartman's eyebrows knitted together and his cheeks got hot. "Then I'm going to buy you a dog, and you will raise that dog lovingly, from a little baby puppy. He will be your best friend. You'll do everything together... And then one night, I'll come and ..."

"It wasn't me, I-I swear." Anxiety travelled up his spinal cord and clutched at Tweek from the inside. "Jesus! Fuck!" Tweek slammed his head on his desk and Mr. Garrison turned around.

"For Christ sakes Eric, will you shut the hell up and face the front?" Mr. Garrison said.

"But—"

"Eric, this lesson is important, God dammit. You wanna end up being a big flaming faggot? Do you want witches to burn you at the cross?"

Cartman grumbled and looked back to the front. Tweek was, apparently, trying to pay attention and avoid more trouble, as he was writing on his sheet. After a few moments of watching the back of Tweek's head had passed, Craig missed his attention. He grew restless again and his mind wandered, but he knew Tweek wouldn't be stupid enough to turn around again and receive the finger.

Taking out a blank sheet of paper, Craig began to doodle something. Folding it up, Craig ripped off a small corner piece and balled it up in his mouth, firing a spitball at Tweek's head. It bounced off the top and Tweek's hand flew to the spot it struck.

"Ow," he said, looking back at Craig. Craig smiled at him and extended the folded note. Tweek looked down, shocked, and accepted the offering. Their fingertips briefly met during the exchange, and then so did their eyes. Tweek had something different than everyone else; Craig could see it in his eyes. He feared everything. Craig feared nothing. It was intriguing. To Tweek, everything seemed to be so... important. Craig marvelled at the concept; what was the kid so afraid of? He longed to crawl inside his brain and figure him out. He longed to push all his buttons... push him over the edge.

Craig couldn't hold back a smile as he watched Tweek unfold the note. As soon as he saw what Craig had given to him he began spazzing violently and got up and ran out of class.

"What the fucki—" Mr. Garrison started to stop him, but Tweek had already out of the room before he could finish his sentence.

"Uh," Mr. Garrison was flabbergasted. "Go to the principal's office, Tweek!" he called out after him.

Craig started laughing. He began to laugh and laugh until his abdominals ached and his smile stretched his face. Fucking priceless. It was the best laugh he'd had in a long time. He looked over at Tweek's abandoned desk. The note was still open on top of it. Craig had drawn a middle finger.

"Dude, what's so funny?" Clyde looked at Craig like he was crazy. The whole class had stopped and turned to look, now. Craig rose and began walking to the front of the class.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mr. Garrison asked. Craig kept walking. "Hey!"

Over his shoulder, Craig gave Mr. Garrison the finger. He ran down the hall, chasing after Tweek. He was the most fun Craig had had in a long, long time.

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please review if you can! it would truly make my day :)


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